


Woodland Walk

by plesiosaurus



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, M/M, artist!Merlin, businessman!arthur
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-14
Updated: 2019-07-14
Packaged: 2020-06-28 04:27:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,677
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19804753
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/plesiosaurus/pseuds/plesiosaurus
Summary: Merlin and Arthur meet in the woods. Then they meet again. And then they meet again, and they start to wonder if their jokes about their namesakes' destinies are becoming less joking.I've written this from both of their perspectives, so each chapter has two parts, one from Merlin's POV and one from Arthur's. Also, I plan to make this completely domestic, so there will be no dramatic plot lines or heartbreaking angst to be seen here. I wanted a nice long indulgent fluff fic, and I couldn't find any so now I'm writing one.





	Woodland Walk

** Merlin **

Merlin feels calm. The woods are always where he goes to relax, and the sun being out for the first time in a while makes the atmosphere just that bit more peaceful. He walks slowly, taking in the slight breeze ruffling the branches above him and the birds flitting between them. It’s June, which means in normal areas of the northern hemisphere it’s nice and warm, but in Wales you learn to be grateful when the temperature goes above 15 degrees. It’s about 16 right now, which means all the locals are out with their shorts on and the beaches are flooded with desperate tourists. Here, however, in Merlin’s little unknown forest, he’s the only person around.

Or, at least, he was a few minutes ago.

Merlin’s distracted from his tranquillity by a call in the distance of “Dog! _No_! Come back here!” The voice has the baritone smoothness of the Queen’s English accent, and Merlin has half a second to think _oh great, a bloody tourist_ before he’s floored by a massive Irish wolfhound. It takes him a few seconds to catch his breath as the dog runs circles around him, but Merlin sits up and blinks a bit to see said Bloody Tourist kneeling in front of him, offering a hand. “I am _so_ sorry,” he says, pulling Merlin up and holding his dog back by the collar, and _did he just look me up and down?_ “He gets a bit excited sometimes, but he wouldn’t hurt a fly, he’s just very friendly.”

Merlin doesn’t respond immediately, because frankly, Bloody Tourist is fit. The t-shirt he’s wearing frames him _very_ nicely, as do the skinny jeans, and it takes him a few seconds to realise that he’s staring inappropriately. B.T. seems to take Merlin’s silence as incomprehension, because he shakes his head. “You don’t speak English, do you? Uh, shoo-may? Rydw i’n hoffi coffi?”

At that sorry effort, Merlin stifles a laugh. “I do speak English, actually. I’m surprised you thought that I wouldn’t, since you lot tried your very best to beat Welsh out of us back in the day. And it’s _shwmae_ , not shoo-may, but I appreciate the attempt.”

“Uh, right, yeah, that was it,” B.T. has the decency to look a bit sheepish. “I left the dictionary in my car. Sorry, again, about the dog. And the whole colonisation of your country thing.” He smiles uncertainly, and - _is he blushing?_ \- and Merlin has to get a hold of himself, good grief. They look at each other and shuffle about for a few seconds before B.T. holds his hand out. “I’m Arthur, by the way,” he says, and Merlin snorts. _Of course that’s his name._

Arthur looks a bit affronted. “What?”

Merlin takes his hand and shakes it. _Nice firm grip. Good for gripping things. Shut up, brain_. “I probably should have done my introduction first, because now you’re not going to believe me. My name’s Merlin.”

Arthur actually throws back his head and laughs, and Merlin stares before he can tell himself not to. “Well fancy that,” Arthur says. “I suppose our meeting was meant to be.” He says the last few words with a wiggle of his eyebrows, and Merlin rolls his eyes. _I don’t need this guy to be attractive_ _and_ _have a sense of humour. That's just a tad too much._

Arthur’s dog sniffles, and that reminds Merlin of something he wanted to ask.

“So, when you were feebly trying to stop this _ferocious beast_ from attacking me -” Arthur looks offended at that “- you called him ‘dog’. Why didn’t you just use his name?”

 _That’s definitely a blush now_. “That is his name,” he admits, laughing nervously. “When we first got him, my stepsister and I were given the challenge of naming him, and we kept bickering about it for weeks. While we decided, we just called him Dog, and it took us so long to choose a name that he learned to answer to that. So now his name is Dog.”

“Right, because that’s perfectly reasonable,” Merlin laughs. They’ve run out of things to talk about, so Merlin makes to leave before he does anything stupid, like jump this poor fit stranger. “Anyway, it was nice to meet you. And you, Dog!” He bends to scratch Dog’s ears before straightening up and nodding at Arthur. “See you.”

Arthur nodded back at him and grinned. “See you later. Or, I mean, probably not.” They both laughed awkwardly. Arthur made an aborted waving motion with his hand and walked away.

Yeah alright, Merlin might be watching his arse as he leaves, and what about it? It’s a nice view.

Until Arthur looks back and catches him at it. _Fuck, fuckety fuck, shit_ , Merlin thinks, feeling his face heat up. Arthur winks at him and carries on walking, and Merlin’s completely fucked.

** Arthur **

Dog trots happily ahead of him, ignoring any attempts that Arthur makes to throw sticks. He gives up and takes to admiring the scenery instead. This area of the woodland is untouched by the tourism industry, and it’s refreshing to explore nature alone without troops of happy families disturbing the peace. Arthur has a thing against happy families.

He gets distracted by a bee that gets wound up in his hair and doesn’t notice Dog sprinting off to meet someone coming their way. By the time he’s freed the bee, Dog is far on his journey to knock the breath out of the man in front of them. _Oh, great,_ Arthur thinks to himself. _I was really hoping we could make it today without attacking anyone._ As a last resort, Arthur shouts. “Dog! _No_! Come back here!”

He’s too late, and he starts running as Dog reaches the poor bloke and rears up, planting his front paws on the man’s chest and flattening him. By the time Arthur reaches them, the stranger is on his back on the leaves and Dog is circling him. Arthur pulls Dog back by the collar and reaches a hand out to help the man stand up. He takes it, and Arthur pulls him up. “I am _so_ sorry. He gets a bit excited sometimes, but he wouldn’t hurt a fly, he’s just very friendly.” He gets a good look at the man as he steadies himself, and _God have mercy_. He has these cheekbones, and his eyes, and that _mouth_ , and Arthur needs to get a grip before he makes a fool of himself. But his _hair_ , it looks like someone’s had their hands in it, and ok, now Arthur really has to stop. He realises simultaneously that he’s been staring for an inappropriate amount of time, and that the man hasn’t responded. Oh, no, he probably doesn’t understand him, and now Arthur looks like a tit. “You don’t speak English, do you?” He tries desperately to grasp at the vague Welsh phrases he knows of. _What was the greeting one again?_ “Uh, shoo-may?” _Probably ballsed that up too._ “Rydw i’n hoffi coffi?” _Did I just tell him to get me some coffee? What is going on?_

Finally, the man reacts, but it’s by poorly hiding a snigger. “I do speak English, actually. I’m surprised you thought that I wouldn’t, since you lot tried your very best to beat Welsh out of us back in the day. And it’s _shwmae_ , not shoo-may, but I appreciate the attempt.”

His voice is deep and heavily accented, and Arthur wants to hear him speak forever. _Respond, Arthur. Respond!_ “Uh, right, yeah, that was it.” _Fucking nice._ “I left the dictionary in my car. Sorry, again, about the dog. And the whole colonisation of your country thing.” _Why are you like this?_

There’s an awkward pause before Arthur finally realises that he should probably introduce himself. “I’m Arthur, by the way.” He holds his hand out to shake. The man snorts, and Arthur blinks. “What?”

They shake hands. “I probably should have done my introduction first,” the man says, “because now you’re not going to believe me. My name’s Merlin.”

Arthur can’t help but laugh at that. What are the chances? “Well fancy that. I suppose our meeting was meant to be.” He wiggles his eyebrows and is about to berate himself for it until Merlin rolls his eyes good-naturedly.

“So, when you were feebly trying to stop this ferocious beast from attacking me -” _ferocious beast?_ “- you called him ‘dog’. Why didn’t you just use his name?”

Arthur had been afraid that he’d ask about that. Everyone always does. “That is his name,” he admits. Merlin raises his eyebrows and gives a small disbelieving smirk, and Arthur gets a strong urge to kiss it off him. _You met him five seconds ago, will you calm down a bit?_ “When we first got him, my stepsister and I were given the challenge of naming him, and we kept bickering about it for weeks. While we decided, we just called him Dog, and it took us so long to choose a name that he learned to answer to that. So now his name is Dog.”

“Right, because that’s perfectly reasonable,” Merlin laughs, and Arthur wants to hear it again. “Anyway, it was nice to meet you. And you, Dog!” He bends to scratch Dog’s ears and Arthur suddenly feels panicked that Merlin’s going to leave already.

“See you later,” he tries. _Wait, no, that sounds like you’re going to look for him._ “Or, I mean, probably not.” They both laughed awkwardly. _Oh, sure. Very good._ Arthur raised his hand to wave and then thought better of it, instead just turning and walking away.

He looks back as he goes, and _is he staring at my arse? I swear he is. He has to be._ Merlin goes beet red, only heightening Arthur’s suspicions, so he takes a chance and winks at him. Merlin’s eyes widen a bit, and suddenly Arthur is terrified that he’s made the wrong move. _Just keep going_ , he thinks to himself. _It’s not like you’re going to see him again anyway._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Quick translation for those of you who don't speak Welsh (which I'm guessing is literally everyone): shwmae is a general greeting which basically means 'hi, how are you', but doesn't really have an exact translation. Up north people tend to say 'sut mae' instead. Rydw i'n hoffi coffi means 'I like coffee', and tends to be the only Welsh phrase anyone knows because it rhymes.  
> Also, thank you for reading and all that!


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